I'm The One You Want
by ChangingAgainLater
Summary: Lovino has a pretty normal life until his neighbor, Francis, starts to stalk him. He takes nude photos of him, steals his underwear, calls him, and even sneaks into his room at night. The Italian is close to calling the cops or maybe just his boyfriend, Antonio. While trying to report him, Lovino finds out maybe he doesn't want Francis to leave. Maybe he likes it. Framano, Spamano


"You seem tired, amor. Maybe you should go home and sleep. I'll finish your work for you." Lovino curved a hand around his mouth, his head leaning back as he released an exhausted yawn. He turned to his Spanish workmate, who beamed when those light eyes flickered and darted to his face. He loved Lovino's eyes. The color was beautiful and held hidden affection; for which he always searched.

"Shit, Antonio. Are you sure you can handle all of that? N-Not that I care, you should be doing my work already... Bastard..." The Italian coughed, his cheeks coloring darkly habitually. Antonio nodded, interweaving his fingers in the younger brunette's hair. He was shoved away before he was given the chance to touch that strange, long curl erecting among his healthy, dark strands. He was once again excluded from his mysterious secret, but wasted no time sulking. He walked Lovino to his car and stooped down when the male shut the door and rolled down his window, fussing about running him over.

"Aw, Lovi. You're so cute," Antonio tweeted appreciatively. Peeking back at their building of employment, he quickly swooped in and smacked their lips together. Lovino ingested a large breath, focusing on the padding of his lips before leaning in, shyly kissing back. After a moment, Antonio retracted and chuckled endearingly.

"Stay safe, Lovi. Really. I love you." With one final wave, the Spaniard dashed off. Stilling himself until his heart stopped racing so haphazardly, Lovino drove himself home. It wasn't abnormal for Antonio to kiss him. They had exceeded the friend zone the moment Lovino acknowledged his adorably daft system of flirting. They were dating, but Lovino wasn't sure if that meant they were... _Boyfriends_... It seemed evident enough, but the Italian didn't want to embarass himself by assuming incorrectly. Sure, they went on dates, snuggled together, cooked together, kissed, gave each other gifts, and had lots of sex... But over all he wasn't good enough for Antonio...

These thoughts in his mind, he prepared to take a shower. Tugging his shirt over his head, he unbuckled his pants and slithered them down his slim hips. He started to peel away his underwear when he was blinded by a flash.

"Ahh! What the fuck?" He cried, rubbing at his eyes. Lovino twirled in the direction he saw the flash come from and caught sight of blonde hair disappearing out of view. He swallowed, his face pale and his limbs shaky. He gathered his attire and dashed into the bathroom, dressing again. He traveled to the window and unbolted it, poking his head out. He saw nothing.

Lovino decided to pretend the situation never happened, closing his window and firmly tightening the blinds. It was in his nature to sleep naked, but he hated perverts. He'd have to wear night clothes tonight. He locked every door in his house and made sure the covers were tucked securely around his body before cautiously drifting to sleep. Next time, he'd call the police. He swore it to himself.

* * *

He was sitting on his couch in his living room when his house phone started to ring. He lazily stretched and grasped it, bringing to his ear while answering.

"Yeah, what is it?" He grumbled informally, munching on a snack. He was adorn in shorts and a long t-shirt, lounging with his legs flopped apart. His hair was tussled while his shirt was inched up to his stomach, showing the baby smooth skin. He'd never go out in public like this. He only dressed and acted like this on his lazy days. It wasn't like he spoke to anyone besides Antonio anyway...

"Bonjour, mon cher." Shuffling uncomfortably, Lovino muttered a "damn it". How did that French-fuck of a neighbor get his number? He never liked Francis. Something about the blonde didn't sit well with him. He scowled, returning to the conversation at hand, "You know, you look really cute right now. I've never seen you in any clothes that aren't designer. And your legs are so smooth looking. I wish to touch them.."

Lovino's blood ran cold at his purring voice, not being able to breathe. He choked a bit before pounding his fist against his chest. The tomato he was savoring and gradually squeezing the juices out of, went down hard and cold. Tears gathered in his eyes, after effects of his struggle to inhale.

"Wh-What the hell? Francis, you damn bastard! Are you the one who has been taking pictures of me?" He was seething. For a whole week, he continuously found evidence of someone staying just outside of his house. He was considering getting the authorities involved with this. It pissed him off that a person somewhere was probably drooling over naked pictures of him.

"Hmm? Non, non. Of course not," Francis denied, a kittenish tone in his voice. He laughed as if this was a humorous situation, making Lovino turn even redder.

"Chigi! This is not funny, you stupid fuck face! I'm going to call the cops!" It seemed Francis ignored his threat, because he changed the subject.

"You know, I like your hair better when it's messy. It makes you look very attractive." From his home, he watched Lovino through his bedroom window, perched on his window sill with one foot dangling inside the house. Lovino stood up, determinedly searching for him.

"You sick, sick asshole!" He glanced down at his laptop, scrolling through countless images of a bare Lovino. His personal favorite was the one he took the night before. He shivered with delight as he remembered how he snaked into the Italian's room and risked everything, just to pull those despicable sheets off and reveal his precious body, lacking any type of clothing. He cherished the dip of his abdomen to form his belly button, his jutting hipbones, his slender thighs, his cute little toes, the gap behind his knees, the soft hair of his crotch- _Francis knew, he ran his fingers through the curls- _he loved the shapely appearance of his testicles (oh, how he fantasized about taking them into his mouth), and he loved the circumcised, tender skin of his beautiful shaft. And he especially loved that compressed, damp, oh-so-inviting puckered hole.

He dreamed of being between Lovino's legs, forcing them apart as he plunged into him. He wanted Lovino to scream for mercy, gasp angelically under him as he jabbed relentlessly at his sensitive prostate. The boy would be soaking wet, his asshole filled to the brim with his cum. He'd claw at the bed sheets, crying from the sensual waves of heaven, his hips jerking and bruising themselves against the blondes. He'd be shuddering, saliva dribbling from his lips.

"M-Mon Dieu...!" Francis bit down on his tongue, finding that his pants were painfully tight and stained with his leaking semen. Taking action, he wormed down his jeans and boxers, his erection standing like a newly built skyscraper.

"Francis motherfucking Bonnefoy!" He heard Lovino bellow into the phone, his anger reaching it's peek. He looked down to see Lovino was walking around his backyard, glaring up at his house. The male was pretty daft sometimes, he didn't bother to look up at his bedroom, looking much like an angry kitten. Francis began to touch himself to the arousing sound of his voice. He gripped his cock, dripping spit onto it and pretending his palm was Lovino's sweet little mouth. That in mind, he became hard, shutting his eyes and pumping into the miniscule, warm entrance. Jerking his hips with his movements, he was soon giving a small grunt as he came.

"I swear if you don't answer me-!" Lovino went silent, reaching up to touch his wet cheek. The color drained from his face as he gazed at the white fluid on his hand. Horrified, he had no words. When he next glanced up, Francis was back inside his room.

* * *

A little more than a week later, Francis had collected a few more pictures and a pair of boxers Lovino had worn. He escaped just in time for the latter situation when the Italian came back unexpectedly early and the other knew he had been there. When they encountered each other next, he received a cordial middle finger. It was the warmest greeting he had gotten while fetching the mail. Sipping from a glass of wine, he used binoculars to spy into Lovino's living room once again. He had attempted to regain his privacy multiple times, yes, but Francis always found a way to avoid his curtains, blinds, blankets, and even wooden boards.

"Oh? Who is this with my sweet Lovino?" Francis tilted his head, frowning lightly. He leaned closer, studying the scene. Lovino was on his sofa once again and had company with him. A flame of jealousy lit in his chest as he watched the Italian enjoy himself.

"Dio, Antonio! Di più! Di più!" He encouraged the mysterious man who was alternating between wiggling two fingers inside of him and bending down to lick his quivering anus. Lovino brushed his hands down his legs to spread his cheeks. Using his fingers, he pried open his slippery hole, his face desperate and flustered, "Shit! Right there! Right there!" He let out a pleased cry when Antonio stopped teasing him and accepted his invitation, drilling into his lubricated entrance.

"It's so good, Antonio, it's so fucking good! Don't stop! Shit! Fuck my brains out!" Angrily, Francis downed the rest of his wine in a huge swig, eventually standing up and crushing the glass. It sliced open his hand, making blood trickle onto the floor. Lovino was supposed to be under _him _thrashing in bliss.

The sound of his trantrum made Antonio stop thrusting his member into Lovino's sore, glowing bum. Searching for the source of havoc, his eyes met Francis's and his eyebrows furrowed. He acknowledged Lovino's pout and dismissed the blonde's presence, abusing his prostate again. Whimpering, Lovino folded his legs around his hips.

"Shit! I can't-!" He moaned, curving his back upwards. Antonio swiftly pinned Lovino's body against himself and rotated onto his back. Quickly getting the idea, Lovino stretched his canal open. The Spaniard filled him completely, making the Italian curl his toes and dig his knees into the couch cushions. Tears filled his eyes as he rocked on top of him, harshly hitting the right spot each time he moved back down.

"'Tonio..." He hiccuped, tears rolling down his cheeks. Not too soon after, he collapsed onto Antonio. They curled up together.

* * *

"Sí, of course you're my boyfriend, Lovi," Antonio chirped while nibbling on a churro. Lovino flushed, finally knowing his answer. He waited for his coffee to finish, standing in the center of the kitchen naked. The older male didn't mind one bit. He shot Lovino a questioning look when a troubled expression controlled his face.

"There's a guy I know who's been stalking me for a month now, damn it. He takes naked pictures of me, steals my underwear, and calls my phone. It's fucking scaring me..." He admitted, shuffling from one foot to another. Antonio was quiet, pondering before pulling Lovino into his chest.

"Lovino," he whispered, nuzzling him, "Are you talking about the guy who was watching us make love from next door last night? The blonde guy with long hair? He seemed mad."

There was a silence before Lovino nodded, hugging back, "I hate him. He keeps invading my privacy and I asked him to stop, that jerk. Tell him to stop, Antonio." Antonio nodded, kissing his cheek.

"Don't worry, amor."

* * *

"Stupid fucking shit! Fuck you, Francis! Where is my idiot?" Lovino shouted, stomping through the house. He ran to the back door when he heard a knock, forcing it open and seeing nothing. He grinded his teeth when he heard the doorbell ring from the front of the house. He stormed into the kitchen, grabbing a knife.

"Ohonhonhon!" Lovino cursed to himself in Italian. He was truthfully going to stab Francis. The blonde was playing with him. _Playing with him! _Lovino was minding his own business when the Frenchman started an asshole's game of hide and seek. He'd knock on a window or a door and run off before the brunette caught him. And then he'd repeat the process. Antonio went to pick up something while Lovino stayed behind to finish some paper work for his job.

Francis was only doing this to get back at him. For the past week, Antonio had been living with him and protecting him. The blonde was scared shitless of the Spaniard, who seemed to possess a dark aura whenever he even thought about the man. He needed to add to his collection. He had last used his camera days before and was getting lonely.

"Lovi-bunny," cooed a sickly sweet voice. Lovino cried out in frustration when the doorbell sounded again. Regripping his knife, he flung open the door and prepared to cut-

"..."

... It wasn't Francis. No, it was someone he feared more.

**His boss.**


End file.
